Written for PV, who requested a Squib!Draco AU.
Draco could have easily been the perfect pureblood son. He knew exactly how to present himself to society, he was more than aware of his family's superior status, and he appeared to be exactly what the Malfoy name needed. On the outside, of course. But inside, Draco knew he was anything but.
His problem was that his eleventh birthday was too close for comfort, and he had still not performed his first magic. Draco had tried everything he could think of to try to squeeze it out, but to no avail.
Draco had tried a few spells with his father's wand, but it felt foreign in his hand, and nothing ever came out, not even sparks. He had tried to force it out on more than one occasion, but no magic ever showed itself.
All signs pointed to what Draco feared: he was a Squib.
The future of a Squib was usually bleak. Most were sent off to live in the Muggle world, which they often knew nothing about. Given his family's views, however, Draco knew he would be thrown onto the street and never given a second thought again.
As midnight slowly, yet still too quickly, arrived, Draco looked out his window for what he knew would be the last time. As much as he had been taught to hate the dirt-veined Muggles, Draco knew that when the morning came without a letter, he would have to quietly slip into their world without even sparks of hope.
I kind of tapped into my personal headcanons for this piece.
Reviews are always appreciated.